


The Bear and the Bird

by FourLeafPyro



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Femslash, Fluff, Lesbian Sex, Muscles, Smut, Sweat, Tribadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 03:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13989597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FourLeafPyro/pseuds/FourLeafPyro
Summary: Commission. Four years after the recall of Overwatch, Zarya arrives in London and decides to meet with an old friend.





	The Bear and the Bird

    Zarya had always hated the rain.

    With rain came the cold, and with the cold came snow, and with the snow came winter. Siberian summers were only hot in a relative sense, and their end would be heralded with thunderstorms that gave way to the dead of winter. The chill would set in overnight, swallowing the world in a thick, flash-frozen sheet of clear ice and heavy snow. Every storm was a race against time, and every minute spent not preparing for the inevitable was a minute wasted.

    The cobble streets of King's Row were uncharacteristically quiet, even in spite of the storm. A lone double-decker bus putted down the street, almost void of any passengers, disappearing around the corner and leaving the road completely empty. Zarya continued forward, trying to push the chafing sensation from her soaked clothing out of her mind. Plastered just inside one of the alleyways was a tall, proud poster, covered in brilliant red shades. _The Constabulary sees you_ , it warned, above a simple drawing of an eyeball staring down at the London Bridge. It had been warped by the rain, ink bleeding down over the rest of the image, glue giving way and letting the edges of the poster come loose.

    A wave of heat rolled out from the double doors of the apartment complex as Zarya forced her way inside, wet fingerprints lingering on the handles. The lobby - rather, what little there was that could actually qualify as a lobby - was nothing more than a tiny box covered in glass windows, another door leading towards the staircase. It was locked. Of course it was. She huffed, whirling around in search of the flat nameplates. Ziegler, Ziegler. Where was she? The first three floors didn’t have a single German name on them. Higher than the cheapest floors? Zarya was almost surprised at the idea of the doctor shelling out the money to live higher up, but, looking around, it didn’t exactly seem like the cost of living here was all that expensive.

    She finally found the name, perched all the way up in a fifth floor apartment at the end of the hall, only one pay grade away from the penthouse. Angela Ziegler. Just seeing the name written out was like seeing her again, as if the last few years had passed in an instant. Zarya pushed the tiny black button into the panel, a lone spark leaping from a CCTV camera in the corner. It hung low, off of its mount, pointing down towards the ground. Stray, frayed wires sagged out from the bottom like a destroyed spider web. A voice crackled over the ancient speakers, fuzzy and distorted, but still carrying the same warm notes she remembered from a lifetime ago.

    “Doctor Ziegler’s office,” she said. “Are you in need of medical attention?”

    Zarya breathed. “Angela.”

    There was silence for a long time; nothing but the empty, subtle static on the other end of the microphone. “Stay there. Do not move.”

    Then, the sound of footsteps rushing down the staircase above, going at a near-sprint. Zarya could hear it through five floors of antiquated pipes and popcorn ceilings. Angela charged through the door leading into the lobby, peeling her coat from her shoulders and tossing it over Zarya’s. She barely had the time to register what was happening as she was rushed towards the stairs, only now realizing how cold she’d been outside.

    “Angela.”

    “Quiet, Bärinchen. Quiet. Come. Up the stairs.”

    Higher and higher, she led Zarya up those winding stairs, the dim light fixtures casting long shadows along the walls. The lock to her apartment came open with an audible thunk as the two women came in from the hallway. Zarya couldn’t manage to take notice of the decor before Angela wrapped her hand around her wrist, pulling her into the bedroom. It was all Zarya could do to stand and watch as she flew into a whirlwind, throwing open the closet doors and yanking out a stack of towels.

    “What is the rush, Angela? I was not followed. Are you not to be seen?”

    She chuckled, dropping the towels at the foot of her bed. “The rush is because you must have been freezing out there. Here. Dry yourself off, and put on — put on whatever you think will fit. I will make coffee.”

    And with that, she was gone, shutting the door behind her as she wandered out to the kitchen. It wasn’t exactly the celebration of a reunion that Zarya had expected, but it was a significantly better outcome than the potential dozens of blowouts she’d feared. The wet clothes struggled to come off of her body, clinging against the details of her muscles and refusing to let go, but she finally managed to pull her top over her head, rainwater pouring out over the floor. Maybe it would have been a good idea to lay out a couple of the towels first.

    At the very least, her civvies were a lot easier to get out of than her armor, even when soaking wet. It only took what felt like a few minutes too long rather than a few hours, and she’d managed to completely strip herself down and start drying off in near-record times. Mercy’s wardrobe, on the other hand, left a lot to be desired. Zarya had no intentions of faulting the doctor for not owning clothes that would fit a woman an entire foot taller and twice as wide as she was, but she wasn’t convinced that anything in here would fit.

    A few more thorough searches eventually revealed a huge, baggy t-shirt that would have hung all the way down to Angela’s thighs if she was wearing it. Probably pajamas, Zarya reasoned. It went on with a a fair amount of difficulty, the collar audibly stretching out as she forced her head through the hole. Damn. It was a size smaller than what she would normally wear, hugging all the hard angles of her body much too close for comfort. It was the best she was going to get without going topless, but the shirt didn’t exactly leave all that much to the imagination to begin with.

    Likewise reasoning that it would be an equally bad idea to go without pants, Zarya pulled out the stretchiest pair of shorts she could find. Too small. Again. Unless she was going to wrap one of the wet towels around her waist, she would have to settle on gym shorts that looked like underwear on her frame. Zarya caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. God, she looked ridiculous. Being strong enough to break most people in half was a generally good deterrent for anyone caring about the way she dressed, but Angela always had a way of making her feel so concerned over the details she’d always overlooked.

    The sound of clinking cups and the whir of the coffee machine led Zarya towards the kitchen, the light of the room flooding out into the darkened corridor. Being as tiny as it was, it only took a few strides to cross the apartment. In the kitchen there was little more than a small table in the room, save for a few tiny appliances sitting over on the countertops. It was impossible to tell whether the furnishings were from that awful 70s resurgence a few years back or if they actually were a century old; the only thing that was certain was that it looked both cheap and neglected, the olive-green folding chairs speckled with tears and holes in the foam padding. Zarya sat down in the nearest one. It groaned under her weight, but it managed to hold. Impressive, for something that looked that broken-down.

    “Bärinchen, eh?”

    Angela laughed. “Mm. It means ‘little bear’.”

    “I am aware of its meaning. I am just trying to remember the last time you called me that.”

    “That would be the last time we were deployed together,” Angela said. “When we were saying our goodbyes.”

    She walked over to the table, a cup of coffee in either hand. Zarya’s cup came down with a tiny thud against the fake wood of the tabletop, and Angela took a seat across from her. She leaned back in her chair, thumb idly stroking the bottom of her chin.

    “I was worried about you, you know? I would have thought you were dead, if not for the fact that it would have made the news.”

    Zarya took a sip of the coffee. Too sweet. Too much milk. “I am fine, Angela. I have _been_ fine. But what of yourself? Where did you go?”

    “After the relief camp?”

    Zarya nodded.

    “I came to London. I’d heard that there were new Omnic riots starting up here, and that there were people in need of help. Everyone turned violent so fast that I could barely keep up. I’m just here on business. To give out aid to anyone that needs it, that is.”

    “The rioters, no?” Zarya asked. “The Omnic lovers. You help them.”

    “They’re the ones that need it the most. The Constabulary has its roots so deep in every hospital in this country that people are being turned away if they’re so much as _suspected_ of being one of the protestors. I have to run my practice out of my own apartment. It isn’t the most sterile environment, but it’s not as if I have a choice.”

    “And this Constabulary, do they know what you are doing here?”

    Angela shook her head. “Didn’t ask. They don’t care so long as I pay them their cut.”

    “Since when do you charge for medical aid?” Zarya asked.

    “I don’t. The money comes out of pocket.”

    Zarya set her cup down. “You are wasting your efforts on these people. Omnic rights. What a joke.”

    “What is this? I didn’t let you in after four years just so you could belittle my work. Look, I understand why you hate them - God, Aleks, I do - but this is different from Russia. If you would just give them a chance!”

    “They were given a chance. They killed my people.”

    Angela slammed her palms down on the table. “You are not the only person that’s killed Omnics! I still remember Null Sector! It was on this same street. If you think I’m ever going to let something like that happen again—”

    Zarya waved her hand. “I know. You are right. I keep killing them, but nothing changes. No matter how strong I am, or how many Omnics die, it is all still the same. My men and I are in a meat grinder. Something has to change. I came for you to tell me what.”

    Silence.

    “I’m sorry, Aleksandra.”

    “Do not be. You are passionate about this. I should be the one apologizing to you.”

    Angela gave her a blank stare. “For what?”

    Zarya sighed. “You said it yourself. I have not said a word to you in four years. Even when we were at the end of our deployment, and I promised to keep in contact with you. How many years were we together, Angela?”

    She was quiet. “Two.”

    “Two years.” Zarya laughed, a hollow sound. “Imagine what could have become of both of us if I had kept my promises. Perhaps you would be in Siberia with me.”

    “You of all people should know that it wouldn’t have worked out like that, Aleksandra. No matter what you think you could have done. People like you and I don’t get to stay in one place.”

    Another silence fell over the room. Zarya gulped down her coffee. Maybe the taste wouldn’t be so awful if she got through it fast enough.

    Angela’s brow furrowed. “What did you come here for, Aleksandra?”

    “I told you. Your advice.”

    “No, that’s not it.” She set her cup down, staring into Zarya’s eyes. “You would not have left the battlefield for something so simple. I know you better than to believe that.”

    “You are correct. This is why I am here.”

    The last of her drink finally gone, Zarya stood up from her chair and reached for her ear, pulling out a pea-sized chrome ball and setting it down on the table in front of her. The tiny device whirred to life as it made contact with the plastic wood, seams forming in the polished surface and dividing the ball into hexagonal segments. Each of the pieces pushed themselves outward and exposing the sparking, purple core of the device, tethering all of the segments in place with long, crackling bolts of energy.

    “What is it?” Her voice was tight. None of the scientific curiosity she normally would have shown.

    “A prototype. Bottled lightning. EMP devices are effective against omnics, but they are lacking in shock and awe. This is different. Nine hundred million joules in less than a second, capable of punching through the defenses of an omnium. The electricity spreads from there. If it were to be used on The Underground, here in London, every omnic beneath the streets would be gone before they heard the sound. That is my mission.”

    Angela stood up. “The Underground is not within the RDF’s jurisdiction. They wouldn’t dare.”

    “The RDF is desperate, Angela. They are willing to accept the consequences of an international incident.”

    “They’re willing to become war criminals.”

    Zarya nodded. “Right.”

    “This is insane.”

    “It is. And I have no intent of using it.”

    Angela’s gaze fell down to the still-crackling ball, and then back to Zarya. She came around the table, marching up to the taller woman, and staring up at her with fire and fear in her eyes. Even as small as she was, there was still something powerful behind that stare. Something intimidating.

    “Why?”

    “Because I could not do such a thing with the doubt that you would care for the machines. So, I will not use it. The well-being of the omnics is not my concern. But I will not let the loss of their life hurt somebody that I care for.” Zarya tapped the device, forcing it to contract back into its idle state. “It is only a prototype, after all. Perhaps I can destroy a transformer instead, and report that it simply—”

    Zarya’s knees buckled as Angela pulled her into a kiss, straining on her tiptoes to reach the mouth of the taller woman. Taking full advantage of Zarya’s stunned reaction, she reached up and cupped her face in both hands, not daring to let her pull away from her lips. She huffed into Angela’s mouth, struggling to steady herself against anything, letting the doctor invade her mouth with her tongue, forcing Zarya to breathe her air. A low chuckle escaped Angela as she pulled herself away, saliva still on Zarya’s lips, reveling in the peachy blush that covered her cheeks.

    “Thank you, Aleksandra. Really. I cannot thank you enough.” Angela choked on her words, a smile spreading across her face.

    “I — you are welcome.”

    The two of them stood there together, unsure of what to say or do next. Zarya’s face was burning hot, she knew it. She could feel the flush creeping into her cheeks, no matter how hard she desperately tried to fight it off. Four years worth of feelings all bubbled back up in an instant, overwhelming her with all the things she wanted to tell her. All of the stories, what she'd done, how badly she’d missed her in all of that time. But she couldn’t possibly admit to that. What if she’d already moved on? There was no sense in trying to relight the spark. This had been an awful idea.

    “Just like old times, no?”

    “You even taste the same, Angela.”

    God. As if it wasn’t bad enough already, that was what she decided to say.

    Angela giggled, seemingly unfazed by the statement. “I remember those days well, you know. How you used to tremble when I touched you.”

    As if to prove her point, Angela drew her fingertips along Zarya’s stomach, running her palms around to the small of her back. Her hands ghosted down, further and further, coming to a rest on her toned rear. She clapped her hands against it, sinking her fingers into the little fat that there was, all of her muscles tightening in response. On cue, a long shiver trickled down Zarya’s spine, forcing her to shake against Mercy’s body.

    “Damn it.”

    “I told you I remembered.”

    Was this real? It had started to feel like some sort of fever dream. It was all too perfect, the way that Angela had reciprocated her advances so cleanly. It felt like Zarya had been doing everything wrong; saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing. This was more than just a celebration. This was their reunion.

    “Does it not get strange, Angela?”

    She blinked. “What do you mean?”

    “I have seen you on the battlefield, in your combat outfit. You move with grace, but your wings are so fragile. Like a little bird. It should be strange that you are capable of doing such things to me, no?”

    “I do not think so,” Angela said. “Does that not make it that much more enticing? That the bear should be tamed by the bird?”

    Zarya shivered from her words alone. “You do not know what you do to me, Angela. How long I have been waiting.”

    “Do not forget that I was waiting, as well. I missed you, dearly. You are not alone in fantasizing over what could have been. Even against my better judgement, I have spent so many days imagining what I — what _we_ missed out on together. You are not alone in that. And perhaps we will have to make up for all of our lost time.”

    Angela’s hands moved again, trailing her her backside and returning to her belly, tracing the outline of her muscles through her clothes. Zarya hissed through her teeth as Angela moved down, pushing her fingers between her legs and dancing up her figure with the other hand, treasuring every last one of Zarya’s sharp angles that contrasted so perfectly with her softer parts. Try as she might to return the favor, Zarya found herself getting swept away by Angela’s teasing touch, struggling to hold her voice back. There was pride on the line; just because she was submissive didn’t mean she should act as desperate as she felt. But her body was betraying her faster than rational thought to keep up with. God, she’d already managed to soak herself through a pair of borrowed shorts. She couldn’t even hide the fact that Angela would make her cum through her clothes if she kept going.

    “You are still so strong, Bärinchen.” Angela’s voice was thick. Intoxicating. “Peak physical health. You still take care of your body, even in battle.”

    Zarya hesitated. “I have not had the time to exercise.”

    “That is more than fine, Aleksandra. You are already so wet for me. Do not think I intend to let you go without giving you a workout.”

    “I am still strong.” Damn it. Stop being so defensive. “I can still carry you.”

    She giggled. “Then you will carry me to my bedroom, Aleksandra. Doctor’s orders.”

    Angela wrapped her arms around Zarya’s neck, letting herself get swept up into her cradle hold. She was light. Surprisingly so. Even as Zarya marched back towards the room at the end of the hall, she’d carried smaller munitions boxes that weighed more than she did. It wasn’t exactly her place to worry about Angela’s well-being — she could handle herself better in most situations than women half her age — but her earlier crack about her fragility seemed more poignant now. It wasn’t just that she might get hurt if Zarya got rough. What if one of the riots got out of hand, and she wasn’t around to protect her?

    She snapped herself out of her own thoughts, delicately setting Angela down atop her bed. It had been a while since Zarya had been in this position. There were steps, rigid steps, that she always went through before she did anything, a mental checklist to make certain that everything was in order and had a set structure. But it was all a blank, now. Nothing more than old, faded memories that came in bits and pieces. How was this all supposed to go?

    “Actually, Aleksandra, perhaps you should be on this bed before myself. I am in the mood to treat you tonight.”

    “Huh?”

    “Indeed. Just to show you what you have been missing.”

_Fuck._

    Zarya couldn’t find it in herself to object to the proposal, resisting another shiver as she sunk herself down onto the mattress, right next to Angela. Damn it. She needed to get a hold of herself.

    “Let us get my shorts off of you, hm?” Angela’s voice dripped with desire, her own experience slicked over her words. “And such a mess you have made of them.”

    Her fingers wrapped themselves around her waistband, gently tugging them away from Zarya’s hips. They rolled down her body, cresting over her powerful thighs, Angela making no attempt to hide her fixation on her figure. They finally reached her toes, after what felt like an eternity had passed, and her lower half was completely exposed. Angela slinked off of the bed, resting on her knees just in front of Zarya, spreading the taller woman’s legs apart. Without a second thought, Zarya quickly peeled her top off, reasoning that it was either now or never and she would much rather it be now.

    “Angela, are you certain about this? I can still—”

    Zarya’s breath hitched in her throat as Angela drew a long line along her lips with her tongue, just barely pulling at the hood of her clit with the last flick of her tongue. It was all she could to to not leap away from the sensation, nearly collapsing flat on her back. She steadied her body, failing to do the same with her fluttering pulse, and let a long moan pour from her mouth as Angela delved back into her wetness. This time she went down, not giving Zarya a second to get used to the feeling, swirling her tongue while she lapped at her fountain of juices.

    “Angela!”

    Her cry fell on deaf ears, Angela snaking two of her fingers up and along Zarya’s legs, hungrily kissing at her labia. Another string of curses spilled from her mouth as Angela’s fingers pushed inside of her, one by one, gently curling upwards to stroke against her walls. Overwhelmed by the sudden feeling up fullness inside of her, unable to pull away from the dizzying pleasure that threatened to swallow her whole, Zarya’s thighs clenched around Angela’s head like vice grips, squeezing her temples as she prepared herself to drench her face with her pent-up arousal.

    And then, nothing.

    “Not yet, my little quickshot.” Angela freed herself from between her legs, juices running down her chin. “Wait for me.”

    Angela pushed herself up onto the bed, crawling up to Zarya and planting her lips against hers, forcing her tongue inside of her mouth all over again. Zarya could taste herself — her sweet, salty juices that coated the inside of Angela’s mouth — for just a moment before Angela pulled away, pulling her top over her head. She fell back onto her bed, peeling away at her sweatpants and her underwear, not bothering to make a show out of it. All of her composure threatened to melt away under her the pressure of her own desperation, and she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

    She was perfect. Completely, utterly perfect. All of the soft curves of her body gave way to even softer, shapelier parts, the line of her body flowing along like a river. Zarya marveled at her figure, voluptuous and mature, seemingly only enhanced with her age. For the first time in years, Zarya felt completely lost. She had no idea what she’d done to deserve someone so perfect, nor what she would have to do to keep her.

    “Let us see if you remember how we used to do this, Bärinchen.”

    To say she’d forgotten everything would be a lie. The nerves, the blood roaring in her ears, the tightness in her throat; it was all the same as it had been before, just four years ago. All she had to do was retrace her steps. What Angela had taught her, when she was in this exact same position. It came back, in bits and pieces. The position. Zarya reached down, grabbing Angela’s thigh and lifting it up high, resting her leg on top of her shoulder. Closer. She scooted herself forward, draping one leg over hers, nearly tangling herself up. But then, with one final motion, the two of them connected, dripping sexes finally coming together.

    A newfound burst of confidence surging in her chest, Zarya slowly began to rock her hips, muscles tensing as she tried to hit her tiny target. It was frustrating. She was close, so close, to remembering how it used to go. She shivered, fire splintering through her veins, finally managing to get a single good pass, grinding herself ever so gently against Angela. As poorly as she felt she was doing, Angela was still soaked with her own lust. It was almost perfect. There was just something missing.

    “Harder, Aleksandra.”

    She swallowed. Angela looked so small below her, splayed out across the bed. “Are you certain?”

    “I can take it. Do not hold back.”

    Angela’s reaction was immediate. Zarya pushed her hips against hers, hard, grinding with four years of pent-up lust, pulling her body even closer to her own. A torrent of moans poured forth from Angela’s lips, Zarya rocking her entire body like some sort of carnal beast. Her fingers wrapped themselves around Angela’s waist, tugging her closer every time she started to slip away, the force of her thrusts more than enough to push her up and along the bed. Zarya grunted, breath hitching before erupting as a gasp. Neither of them could find words for the other, losing themselves in the abyss of their pleasure faster than their minds could keep up.

    Beads of sweat cascaded down Zarya’s body, droplets shaking from the angles of her muscles with every frenzied buck of her hips. A dozen thoughts ran through her mind at once. She wanted to kiss Angela. She wanted to hold her closer. She wanted to look into her eyes when she finally came. The last of her restraint melted away against the flow of her desire, and Zarya draped herself as far over Angela’s body as she could, their faces mere inches away from meeting. There wasn’t a moment wasted as Angela grabbed onto her shoulders, pulling herself up to lap at the salty rivets running down Zarya’s neck, pulling away only to kiss her between gasps and moan down her throat. Their bodies stuck together, sweat-slicked skin clinging to sweat-slicked skin, imitating the encompassing bear hold that she’d placed the doctor in.

    It was an awkward position , and it was starting to make her sore, but Zarya wouldn’t have asked to have it any other way. The two of them locked eyes, flames burning in Angela’s gaze. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Zarya felt a pressure building up inside of her belly, welling up and burning inside of her, screaming for release. She was close. White-hot bolts jolted along her skin, desperately holding on to Angela as though she would float away if she dared to let go. Angela’s fingertips dug into her back, the sopping sounds of their hips colliding swelling up in a frenzied cacophony.

    “Are you close, my love?” Angela’s voice was a purr, almost daring.

    Zarya couldn’t find her words, only managing to utter a low grunt as she lost her rhythm.

    “Then cum with me, Bärinchen.”

    And that was all of the encouragement that Zarya needed, finally letting herself topple over the edge with Angela in her arms. Her entire body shuddered, wracking with her pleasure, moans and curses and the name “Angela” pouring from her lips in tandem with her lover. Air was forced out of lungs, Zarya crushing Angela in her bear hug as they painted one another’s inner thighs with their juices. Everything sputtered, and then slowed, the burning flames subsiding to little more than a warm afterglow. Zarya’s muscles burned, body sore as she finally collapsed flat on her back next to Angela, catching her breath.

    She’d been right, as always. That was the hardest workout she’d had in months.

    They laid there in silence together, Angela snuggling herself into the arms of her little bear. Zarya’s burly arms wrapped themselves around her body, running a free hand through her blonde locks of hair, letting her rest her head on top of her chest. Angela was always good at making Zarya worry about the little details, but she couldn’t bring herself to care in the slightest now.

    “I am here for another two weeks,” Zarya said. “The RDF gave me time for reconnaissance. And then I am back to Siberia.”

    Angela smiled. “We’ll just have to make the most of our time together then, hm?”

    “That we will.”

   

    Zarya thought for a moment. “You will also likely be out of power for a few days after I destroy the transformers. I advise the purchase of some candles.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading through my first commissioned work, and my first published piece of femslash on AO3! If you'd like to let me know what you thought of it, don't hesitate to tell me in the comments below, or send me an Ask on my Tumblr, right here: https://fourleafpyro.tumblr.com/. As always, I thank you again for your support, and encourage you to stay tuned for more fics in the future!


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